In Retrospect
by LaLuna
Summary: Formerly "Snow Angels." Monologues written for Phantom characters, reflecting on Erik after his obituary appears in the L'Epoque. Raoul chapter revamped, Christine chapter up! Thanks for reading :)
1. Bravo, Monsieur

I know this isn't a new post, but I wasn't entirely satisfied with the former product and so decided to revamp it. I'm not really sure how to explain this ... It's just a couple of monologues written for various _Phantom _characters after they see Erik's obituary in the _L'Epoque_. I like to think it provides a nice insight into their feelings regarding the Opera ghost and their relationships to him. Reviews are appreciated, but by no means manditory. Thanks for reading! :)

In Retrospect : Raoul 

_Bravo, Monsieur_

Setting : Three weeks after Christine and Raoul's departure from the house by the lake, an obituary appeared in the _L'Epoque_. Christine has returned to the Opera on a mysterious errand, telling Raoul to wait for her on the roof, near the statue of Apollo.

Scene : The roof of the Paris Opera House

It is a cold, windy day. The sky hangs overcast, threatening rain, almost as if all of Paris is in mourning . RAOUL, LE VICOMTE DE CHAGNY enters, wearing a long, heavy overcoat and a gray woolen scarf. He is a tall, handsome young man of about 21 with sandy blonde hair, attractive blue eyes and a charming smile. His pleasing face, however, is presently dominated by an expression of sadness and a slight hint of confusion. He walks across the roof, past the statue, and stands at the edge, looking out over the city. There is a long pause before he speaks.

RAOUL : (Pulling a copy of the _L'Epoque_ out of his overcoat and reading out loud.) "'Erik is dead ...'" (A pause. He looks up from the paper and again out to Paris.) "Raoul is alive ..." (He smiles softly.) "Raoul is alive, and Christine is free. Free at last from the prison of your murderous adoration. Free from your pleading eyes, your empty tears, your torture chambers and hypnotic music. No longer will she sit for hours on end in some dark, desolate corner - Her thoughts haunted by your memory. No more will she awaken in the night from some horrible nightmare, or weep inconsolably with fear and uncertainty. Her gentle mind is free to think and dream and love again! My Christine ... has been liberated." (A pause.) "MY Christine. Now she takes MY hand as we walk through the park together. Now it is I who sit beside her in the carriage as we ride through the Bois at night." (His voice softens) "Now it is MY ring that she wears with pride. I saved her. She was standing on the edge, looking out over a chasm at the inevitable life of darkness and fear which awaited her, her little feet poised and waiting to jump. But I reached out and pulled her back towards the light before she could plummit into the horrors below. I grasped her so tightly no outside force could come between us. Not even you ... I won, Monsieur ..." (A long pause. The wind picks up slightly as his expression changes from that of satisfaction to pained confusion.)

"And yet she is distant. Her lovely blue eyes often become clouded over and expressionless. Her hands tremble whenever she moves them to touch my ring, which she still insists upon wearing around her neck. Sometimes I catch her staring out a window, her face pinched taught with apprehension, her gentle mouth turned down slightly at the corners. I see her press her hand to the glass as though she is trying to touch the things outside and she murmurs words I cannot hear. When I ask her what she is thinking, she smiles sadly and says, 'Only of my dear, dead father, Raoul. I say a prayer for him every now and then.' But I know there is something else. She prays for her father's soul every Sunday at Mass, and before supper as well. It is not him whom she thinks of." (Another pause.)

"She doesn't sing anymore, Monsieur. During the first week, I thought it was only because of shock or sadness, and perhaps she simply did not have the heart. But as the days wore on, I would watch her carefully, noting how she fingered through the worn collection of antique music in my library, or how her hand brushed the fine exterior of my brother's piano when she passed it in the hallway. I saw how her lips trembled whenever we walked by the Opera, her longing eyes filling with tears as she pretended it didn't affect her. Even today, as we entered the building together, I watched her chest swell and her fingers nervously clutch the little fur muff I gave her for Christmas. I know she yearns to sing, to let music once again flood her body and bring color to her cheeks. It was her soul ... But she cannot. There is something that stops her. Some outside force that no one, not even I, can control. It has silenced her throat and thus her purest form of expression. She still looks and talks and laughs the same, of course, but she is not. A part of her has died, and I do not think she knows it yet. But I know it. I see it in her eyes. I feel it in her touch. And I know the ghost who haunts her mind ... You won, Monsieur ..."

(He hugs his coat closer to protect himself from the wind.) "She does love me, I have no doubt in my mind that she does. She tells me so nearly every day and for that I truly am grateful. We will be married next month, just the two of us and a witness in a small, private ceremony. And then I will take her away from here and I will make her happy. And she will make me happy. I can't make her forget you, Monsieur, and I won't try to anymore. It is a losing battle ..." (A brief pause. He stares at the paper once more.) "Erik is dead ..." (He smiles ironically) "Erik is dead ...?" (He begins to laugh as he tears the paper to shreds and drops the pieces off the roof, watching them dance mockingly in the wind. Snow starts to fall softly from the sky.) "I won her heart and you won her soul ... Is that how it is always to be, Monsieur ...?" (He waits and stares into the air. After a moment, he appears to have received an answer.) "Then sometimes death changes very little, I suppose." (Suddenly, CHRISTINE appears next to the statue, dressed in a heavy, fur-trimmed cloak and scarf, her face pink from the cold. Her sad blue eyes sparkle with tears of mixed emotions.)

CHRISTINE : "Raoul? I'm ready now. Thank you for waiting." (He moves towards her and hugs her tightly. She does the same. They stand embracing in the snow, letting their feelings go unspoken. Finally, he pulls away and stares into her eyes.)

RAOUL : "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

CHRISTINE : "Yes, Raoul, I do. And I'm glad, for now I know the great importance and immeasurable power of love. We are truly lucky, you and I, to be able to share something so wonderful. It can make all the difference in a person's life." (A pause.) "How could I not have seen that before ...?"

RAOUL : (Softly) "He will forgive you."

CHRISTINE : (Smiling sadly.) "I can only hope." (They kiss, and leave the rooftop hand in hand.)

Fin


	2. Night's Candles Are Burnt Out

In Retrospect : Christine 

_Night's Candles Are Burnt Out _

Setting : Three weeks after Christine and Raoul's departure from the house by the lake, an obituary appeared in the _L'Epoque_. Christine has returned to the Opera on a mysterious errand, telling Raoul to wait for her on the roof, near the statue of Apollo.

Scene : The Louis-Phillipe Room

(The air is dark and deathly still. Beautiful, antique furniture decorates the entire room. A persian rug conceals the floor and a dressing table covered with perfumes, brushes, hair combs and a hand mirror rests up against one wall. A delicate chair sits beneath it. Exotic tapestries adorn the walls along with a lone, dark window that appears to show nothing behind it. Jewelery boxes and other trinkets have been scattered among the tops of an old wardrobe and various shelves. There is a canopied bed with silken sheets and lace pillows positioned almost at the center of the suite. The lifeless corpse of ERIK rests peacfully on top of it, his long arms folded gently over his chest. CHRISTINE DAAE enters wearing a heavy, fur-trimmed cloak and red scarf. She is a lovely young woman with large, blue eyes, a pale complexion and soft brown curls. She sets the candelabra she has been carrying down upon the dressing table and turns to face the bed. Tears glisten in her eyes as they meet with the sight before them. She pauses a moment to gather her courage.)

CHRISTINE : (Awkwardly) "Your house is in ruins, Erik. I don't know how you managed to escape them. Your mother's beautiful furniture, the Persian rugs, your music - all your music has been scattered across the floor. I tried to save some of it, but the pages are torn and out of order." (She reaches into her cloak and draws out a small stack of paper) "I'd like to keep what I rescued, if you don't mind. It might be destroyed otherwise and I don't think I could imagine living in a world where Erik's music does not exist." (Putting the sheets on an endtable, she slowly approaches the bed. She hesitates for a long moment before reaching out and placing her small hand on top of his.) "Your hands are so cold ... Though I can't remember a time when they weren't." (Another pause) "What is death like, Erik? Ever since I was small I've feared it. I used to have nightmares about sinister creatures with icy claws who would come to take me away as they did my mother ... And then Father told me about the angels in Heaven and how Mama had flown up into the sky as light and airy as gossamer on feathery wings to play in the clouds ... I pray to God every night that you, too, are there ...

"There are things that should be said, though I don't think I know exactly what they are. Raoul is better at that. He's always so confident and poised, with a knowledgeable statement or witty remark ready on his tongue. I admire that very much ... You, on the other hand, never felt it necessary to communicate with mere words. The way you moved across the room, or the way you looked at me with those golden eyes ... The way you sang me to sleep those nights when I was afraid and called out for my Angel. You spoke volumes sometimes with only the brush of your hand. I admire that, too ... There are moments in my dreams when I can still feel these cold hands speaking to me through their touch. They reach out and caress my hair and I step back, still afraid of the icy death claws from my childhood. But your voice always betrays you, Erik. All you need do is sing me a lullabye and my fear melts away as I remember the Angel I so adored. It's so blissfully serene wrapped up in the security of those dreams ... I often wake up crying; I'm so happy in my fantasy I can't help but weep for joy! As soon as reality returns to my bedroom, however, and I see that I cannot live an illusion the tears turn to those of dispair. I see through the dark the cold, cruel world and all the cold, cruel things I have done, and I leap from my bed and tear open the windows, shouting into the night. I damn mankind for being so blind and I damn you for being the man that you were and I damn myself for ever being born. I scream till I'm hoarse and even then the still air yields no answer to my pathetic pleas ... Sometimes I fear I'm going insane.

"Do you hear me, Erik, when I call out for you in the dead of night? Or when I silently pray for your soul in church every Sunday?" (A pause) "Do you hear me now?" (She sits on the bed and continues to clasp his hand) "Tell me everything's going to be all right. I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I've stopped singing. I feel I no longer have a reason to. When my father was alive I created music only for him, and after his death I was so stricken I feared I would never again utter another sound. It was so black and cold without him and the world seemed so unfriendly and desolate. Fortunately the Opera took me in, though I couldn't quite explain why I decided to come here. Heaven knows I was still vulnerable, and being surrounded by music each day only unearthed the pain I had worked so hard to bury. Yet something enticed me to stay ... Perhaps it was your spirit calling to me through the walls. Even before I met you, a part of me somehow knew you were there. I felt something alive in the Populaire's haunting melodies, and I knew that, though it often broke my heart to hear, music was to be my salvation. That is why I so longed to hear the Angel of Music! I knew that if he were to come to me, that passionate fire that burned within me would be rekindled. I would be able to sing again ...

"I literally came alive during our lessons. It was as though you were breathing life back into my lungs with your voice. I awaited those moments with silent rapture, silently pining for when I would hear you call to me from behind the mirror with the heavenly melodies I had only previously heard in my dreams. In those moments I can truthfully say that I loved you, Erik. I loved you with my entire soul, and, like Little Lotte, I took that innocent little soul in my innocent little hands and offered it to you without hesitation. How could I have known ...?" (A pause as she struggles to hold back her tears) "How could I have known that you would break my heart, and I, in turn, would break your's? Something shattered between us when my curiosity got the better of me and I pulled your mask away. The look of hurt and betreyal and fury in your eyes as you ran about the room and cursed at me was more than I could bear! Only moments before I was completely caught up in the divine splendor of your music ... I wanted to die as you sang; It felt to me I had already ascended into Heaven! But before I did I had to see your face. To know the great teacher who had brought me such an unearthly gift! Oh, there are times when I cringe to think how selfish I was! I knelt in a corner, clutching that wretched piece of porcelein that had deceived me for so long as you lay on the floor in agony and despair, pleading, and begging for your mask ... From that moment on, fear wrapped itself around my heart and held it so tight I thought I would suffocate under its pressure. There was no more Angel, no more Father, no more haunting music. There was only Erik.

(Whispering tearfully) "Why did you do this to yourself, Erik? Why did you let your love for me destroy you? Heaven knows I'm not worth it. There are nights when I swear I can hear you weeping outside my window. Your tears sound exactly the same as they did the last time I saw you. It's always the same plea, over and over again : 'Christine ... Christine, I love you!'" (She is crying now, unable to hold back her tears any longer.) "I had to do it! I had to leave! I know it's impossible to understand, I can't even understand it myself, but ... What would it have been like, Erik? Just the two of us, living alone down here for all eternity, like a small family of hermits, singing and creating music, perhaps even bringing life to this horrific dream dungeon I've come to know so well. Maybe it would have been bliss, absolute paradise, and I was just too stupid to see that ... But I have a life above ground as well. I have friends, and some remnants of a family ... I have music up there, too. No matter where I go, I'll always have music. It is my blessing, it is my curse ...

"I do love Raoul. I know how that must hurt you, but it's true. And my love for him does not frighten me. It's simple and pure, something tangible I have felt before and will always feel. Until I met you, I believed with my innocent little heart that this was the only kind of love a person could feel. Such naïveté! Then you made yourself known to me, and suddenly I was drowning in emotion. Your words, your music, your firm yet gentle mannerisms, the tenderness in your voice ... Everything about you was intoxicating. It was love of the most extreme kind. It burned my soul and turned me inside out, until simply your presence was enough to make me feel drunk ... And it was too much for my heart. My poor, overworked heart was so full to capacity with you, Raoul, and Father I sometimes feared it would explode. So when the mask fell away, it was like a part of my heart had died. Only on the night you allowed Raoul and I to go free was it ressurrected ...

"So you see why I couldn't stay. You were such a passionate person, Erik, in everything you did. You deserved someone who would have been able to return your love in all its strength and magnitude. Someone strong enough to bear your burdens, and able to look beyond them to see the truly astounding man that lay beneath ... I was not that person, and I knew it the moment I kissed you. We were both searching for salvation in that kiss; You from yourself, and I for Raoul. I thought that by consenting to be your wife I would save my fiance from an early grave, and you from continuous solitude. How naive I was to think that I alone could ever cure so many years of psychological torture! And yet, I was willing to try; For the sake of the two living men I loved most, I would try. It was only after I pulled away from your lips that I became aware of the force with which you had kissed me back. It was as though you were utterly parched, and attempting to cure your thirst by drinking from a well that was only half-full. I finally realized that I would never be able to satiate your aching desire to be loved. You had yearned for so long; So many empty years of cold lonliness ... You had simply too great a void to be filled, and I had neither the strength, nor the ability to do it ..." (There is a long pause as she struggles to regain her thoughts. She has literally poured her heart out to him, and now she feels limp and wrung-out of all emotion)

"And that's it. That's the grand secret of my departure. You told me to go, and I did. Willingly, even, and without hardly a moment's hesitation. It wasn't because I hated you, nor was it because you frightened me; My fear of your hideous face and malicious tendancies had long since passed. The man I kissed that night was not a monster or a creature, or even a murderer. He was simply Erik, my dear, strange Angel, and I pityed him. My heart ached for the tenderness that he would never know, and for the love that we were unable to share. There are moments when I wish with all of my soul that I could have been the woman to make you happy, that somehow I could have saved you, and held you, and loved you the way you were meant to be loved. But fantasies and fairy tales are for children, and, thanks to you, my dear teacher, I have grown up, and learned to think twice before believing in bedtime stories." (She stands and reaches into the folds of her cloak, removing the slender, golden ring ERIK had given her.)

"And so I fulfill your final request. I don't know if it will be enough to make atonement for all that I have done ... I can only continue to pray for your soul, and hope that somewhere my Angel is smiling down on me with forgiveness." (With a trembling hand, she reaches out and slides the ring onto his cold, thin finger, before gently caressing his unmasked face, which has grown strange and unfamiliar in the dim candlelight.) "Now, after so long, may your troubled soul at last find some peace." (An aura of finality ascends upon the darkened room, as CHRISTINE slowly brings ERIK'S cold, lifeless fingers to her lips in a gentle kiss. She turns to go, and begins to gather up the small bundle of music. Instead of taking it with her, however, she arranges it as neatly as she can, and lovingly places it beneath ERIK'S folded arms.) "Perhaps this world is not ready for Erik's music after all ..." (She opens the door of the room and smiles through her few remaining tears) "At least not yet ..." (CHRISTINE then exits, locking the door, and the corpse of ERIK behind her, before removing RAOUL'S engagement ring from around her neck. She places the ring on her finger where ERIK'S had sat only moments before, and gently slides the key to the Louis-Phillipe Room onto the chain where RAOUL'S ring once was.) "I am still your keeper, Erik, and you are mine. Those are roles we can never abandon. It is our duty to each other, our secret pact. However unable I am to explain it, I know that there is a connection between us ... Almost as though I've always known you ..." (She gently caresses the key around her neck) "Perhaps, in another time, in another life ..."

Fin


End file.
